Seojoon sat alone in the back corner of the cafeteria, his oversized hoodie doing little to hide his frame. The laughter of his classmates rang through the room, but he wasn't part of it. Instead, he kept his head low, picking at the soggy kimbap his mom had packed for him.
"Hey, fatty!" The voice cut through the air like a whip. Seojoon flinched but didn't look up. He didn't need to; he already knew who it was.
Jihoon and his crew towered over him, their presence casting a long shadow across his tray. "What's that? Your fifth roll today?" Jihoon sneered, snatching the kimbap from Seojoon's hands. The cafeteria erupted in laughter.
"Just leave me alone," Seojoon muttered, his voice barely audible.
"What was that? Speak up!" Jihoon taunted, leaning closer.
Something inside Seojoon snapped. His fists clenched under the table, his nails digging into his palms. For years, he'd endured the jokes, the shoves, the humiliation. But today was different. Today, he couldn't take it anymore.
Seojoon shot to his feet, his chair screeching against the linoleum floor. Before he could second-guess himself, his fist flew forward, connecting with Jihoon's jaw.
The cafeteria went silent for a split second, then chaos erupted. Jihoon stumbled back, touching his face in disbelief. But the shock didn't last long.
"You're gonna regret that," Jihoon growled. The the time a teacher intervened, Seojoon's lip was split, and his body ached in places he didn't know could hurt. But as he limped home that day, his bruises weren't the only thing on his mind.
Standing in front of the cracked mirror in his bedroom, Seojoon stared at his reflection. The boy looking back at him was someone he didn't want to be anymore. He was tired of being the victim, tired of hiding behind baggy clothes and avoiding eye contact.
"This is it," he whispered to himself, determination hardening his voice. "I'm done being this person